


Starlight

by Jaybeefoxy



Series: Flufftober Prompts 2020 [28]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Do Not Translate, Fluff, Flufftober, Flufftober prompts 2020, Honeymoon, M/M, Mystrade fluff, You do not have permission to post to another site, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:40:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27382822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaybeefoxy/pseuds/Jaybeefoxy
Summary: Greg and Mycroft are on honeymoon, and Greg can sing, and dance, and Mycroft adores him.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: Flufftober Prompts 2020 [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950532
Comments: 5
Kudos: 60





	Starlight

The island Mycroft had chosen for their honeymoon was everything Greg loved. Culture, nightlife (pleasantly devoid of drunk 20 somethings on hen and stag do's), sun, sea, sand and no contact with work; no contact with anybody they knew for that matter.

There was a piano in the corner of the bar, Greg noticed. The hotel was gorgeous, a palatial equivalent of five star luxury. It was all white pillars, crystal chandeliers, and an old world charm. An idea formed in his head, just tapping at his thoughts, nudging at what creativity lurked in the policeman’s brain. Greg _was_ creative. He didn’t paint or draw, or write poems, but his job required him to have an active imagination, creating possible scenarios using the available evidence to further their investigations. He needed vision, inventiveness, the inspiration to complete the picture of what had actually happened during the crimes he investigated. He might not have Sherlock’s speed or Mycroft’s foresight, but he wasn’t stupid, and his arrest record was testament to his resourcefulness even prior to meeting the world’s only consulting detective. 

The sky was a flawless blue, the sea a clear aquamarine, the people were friendly and the air was warm. In all he was in high spirits, well rested, and looking forward to lots of time with his husband. They walked the narrow streets of the harbour town, investigating the shops, most of which looked like they had come off the set of Pirates of the Caribbean. At night, the sky was a velvet blue, starlight shining brightly above them, lights winking on the boats bobbing in the harbour, the warm wash of light from the seafront restaurants colouring the pavement under their feet. 

The first night, in the hotel bar, they had relaxed in the convivial atmosphere, chatting to the barman and their fellow guests. They were an eclectic bunch; Myrtle and Bentley Hammond, from Columbus, Ohio, made their acquaintance, as did Millie and Ianto Williams from Swansea, Jon and Jo Adams from Brisbane and the Finkelstein twins, Jerry and George, from New York. 

“Jerry’s in real estate, I’m a lawyer,” George announced. “This is a holiday of a lifetime, we wanted to do something more than Hawaii this year. Gets a bit boring after a while…”

Greg shared a glance with Mycroft and rolled his eyes. _Hawaii, boring?_ “Couldn’t comment, sorry,” Greg said, “Never been.”

Myrtle smiled. “We’re on our second honeymoon,” she gushed, eliciting murmured congratulations. 

Greg grinned. "We're on our first," he admitted, daringly. There were similar murmurs of congratulation, although Myrtle looked a little uncomfortable, but whether it was because she was miffed at Greg stealing her thunder or a slight case of homophobia, Greg wasn't sure.

"Well, Ben’s just retired, and our investments matured. Very nicely too, so we thought we’d splash out.”

“So, what do you two gentlemen do?” Jerry enquired. Mycroft and Greg shared another glance.

“I’m a singer, he’s my manager,” Greg said without hesitation. Mycroft raised an eloquent eyebrow.

“Yeah? Cool,” Millie said. “What do you sing?”

“Just...anything.”

“Cover artist, hm?”

“Something like that.”

“You’ll have to do a turn for us sometime.”

**0000000**

“What on earth possessed you?” Mycroft asked later, as they were getting ready for bed.

“What?”

“Saying you were a singer. Do I look like manager material?”

Greg chuckled. “You look posh, and professional. Besides, you can manage me anytime…”

“Beast.”

“What was I going to say, I’m a DI and he’s a spy?”

“You could simply have said we were businessmen.”

“I could, but where would be the fun in that?”

**0000000**

When Greg saw the poster, it looked like a gift of an opportunity. “Oh, look, they’ve got a Forties evening. Cocktails in the lounge, dance band...sounds like fun.”

“How thrilling,” Mycroft said, sounding anything but enthusiastic. 

“Aw, come on, let your hair down. It’s black tie. You love Black Tie. You’ll knock ‘em dead.”

“I did not bring my tuxedo, Gregory, and neither did you.”

“Okay then, but you look like you got stuck in the 40s anyway when you wear your best suit, and before you say it, I know you brought one.”

“Yes I did, but it’s hardly black tie. The weather is not suited to a full-blown three piece. I would expire from heat exhaustion, as well you know.”

“Don’t worry, love. I’d revive you.”

Mycroft gave him a look and climbed into their bed. “I suppose cocktails do not sound too awful.”

“Cocktails, music, dancing…?”

“Dancing?” 

“Dancing.”

“If I must…” Greg laughed. He knew Mycroft adored dancing, just like his little brother. 

**0000000**

Mycroft knew that one day his husband would give him cardiac arrest, it was inevitable. Especially if he kept doing things like this. The man was dressed in a gorgeous classic dinner suit, hired from a shop in the city that boasted itself to be the only fancy dress shop on the island. Not only did it hire fancy dress, they did a neat line in wedding attire for the brisk trade the place did in matrimonial celebrations. Greg had persuaded Mycroft to along with him, and he had seen something that caught his eye but he decided not to tell Greg what it was. 

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the Naughty Forties Dance Night at the Empire Lounge.” Scattered applause greeted the Band Master’s introduction and he smiled and bowed. “Thank you. We hope you enjoy the show. To start us off, a medley of Miller." The bandleader turned and tapped his baton. “Ready, boys and girls? Here we go then.” The musicians struck up with the opening bars of In The Mood. 

Greg fidgeted with his tie, looking for Mycroft. He had insisted Greg go down first, there was something he needed to do, and Greg had taken the hint. He'd had something of his own to sort out, so he'd gone willingly enough, but now he was wondering what had delayed the man.

"Evenin', Greg, you going to grace us with your vocals tonight?" Jerry enquired, sipping a Manhattan. "Open mic night," he added, with a waggle of bushy eyebrows.

"I...um...yes, I was planning to. Have you seen my husband?" 

"Lost him already?" George chuckled. "Not a good sign." Greg was going to say something, but at that moment his eyes alighted on Mycroft just coming in the door. "Bloody Hell…" Greg breathed, awed. Mycroft looked suave and sophisticated, hair slicked into a typical 40s parting, dressed in a white dinner jacket and black tie. Spotting Greg he made a bee-line for his husband. 

"Darling, there you are," he purred, snaking a hand around Greg's waist. "You look positively delectable."

"You look stunning," Greg said appreciatively. "Would you go get us drinks? I'll find us a table…"

They sat for a while enjoying the convivial party atmosphere, and were eventually joined by the Finkelstein brothers, both dressed somewhat like stereotypical Mafia Dons. Then Myrtle and Bentley turned up, closely followed by Millie dragging a reluctant Ianto over and they spent the next half hour in pleasant chat with them all. Eventually Greg excused himself to visit the mens’ room, and disappeared. 

“So, your man gonna entertain us tonight?” Jerry asked. “He did say somethin’...”

Mycroft smiled at the question, vaguely. He found being vague sometimes got him further than being specific when avoidance was required. “I have no idea. It would be rather a busman’s holiday for him after all. However, one can never tell with my husband. He is rather a dark horse sometimes.” Mycroft realised Greg had been gone a while. They finished listening to a rather shaky rendition of Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree, delivered by three ladies in obvious imitation of the Andrews Sisters but sadly lacking a little skill. It was a robust rendition and not without enthusiasm, but there had been the odd flat note. 

Next up was a small woman in Victory rolls, red lipstick vibrant against her pale skin. She made a brave rendition of Run Rabbit Run, followed by a better attempt with Chattanooga Choo Choo. She was somewhat better than the previous act and when the Bandleader encouraged the audience to show their appreciation, they applauded loudly. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, that was our little nightingale, Rosie Crocker…and now, we have a special treat tonight. With a hit made popular by Mama Cass in 1968, originally written in 1931, we have Greg Lestrade, all the way from the UK, with Dream a Little Dream, so give him a warm welcome, ladies and gents…” Clapping burst out and a couple of whistles reached Mycroft’s ears as his husband took center stage. Greg leaned into the mic and smiled, then glanced back and the orchestra struck up with the music, giving him the intro. Mycroft didn’t know where to look, so he kept his eyes on Greg as he stood in the spotlight, as his pleasant tenor voice rose above the audience. 

“Stars shining bright above you, 

Night breezes seem to whisper "I love you"

Birds singing in the sycamore tree...

Dream a little dream of me..."

Mycroft was caught completely off-guard. He knew his husband could hold a tune, but was entirely unprepared for how well he could hold an audience. Greg caught mycroft’s eye and smiled as he sang, and directed the song completely to his husband, ignoring a few adoring looks from other members of the audience. 

“Stars fading, but I linger on, dear…. still craving your kiss,” Greg sang, suddenly reaching and taking the mic off the stand. He walked off the stage and straight to Mycroft, singing the while. “Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you. Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you, but in your dreams whatever they be, dream a little dream of me…”

Mycroft blushed, he couldn’t help it. As the song finished, Greg leaned in and kissed him. Then he drew back as the applause drowned everything out. Greg turned and bowed, and then, amazingly, walked back to the stage. The music seamlessly drifted into a new song, one that made Mycroft smile. 

“That certain night, the night we met,

There was magic abroad in the air. 

There were angels dining at the Ritz, 

And a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square…”

Greg wasn’t finished however, and after the last verse, he had asked the orchestra to play on. He put the mic back in its rest, walked to their table and held out a hand in invitation. Mycroft looked up at him, huffed a little exasperated sigh with a roll of his eyes, and stood. Permission granted, Greg pulled him close, swinging him into his arms for a slow dance, to applause from the audience. The music changed, and Moonlight Serenade filled the room. They danced on, lost in each other's arms. 

**0000000**

“You are a dark horse,” Mycroft said later as he finally got to peel Greg out of his suit behind the firmly locked door of their room. “I had no idea you were _that_ good.” 

“Ah well, doesn’t do to reveal all my secrets too soon. Besides, I wanted to show you how much I love you. ‘Tis our honeymoon after all..”

“And you did so remarkably well. Thank you, my darling man, my very own crooner.” 

“My angel at the Ritz,” Greg replied, grinning. “You know, perhaps we should go dine there sometime. You could wear that tux, you look so bloody gorgeous.” 

“I shall arrange it the moment we get back. However, for now…”

“Hmm?”

“How do those lyrics go? Still craving your kiss?”

“Allow me to sort that for you, love,” Greg murmured, leaning swiftly in and kissing Mycroft full on the mouth, determined to make his own little dream come true. 


End file.
